Hoarfrost
by KrysSaiyan
Summary: Optimus Prime and Starscream are trapped on an asteroid together and must survive until reinforcements arrive. Not a pairing fic, for once.


**Written for the competition_fun community on LiveJournal**

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><p>Like many of Megatron's plans, this too had failed spectacularly. Since coming to Earth, something must have gone wrong in the Decepticon tyrant's motherboard. The devastating success he saw on Cybertron turned quickly to half-baked, short-sighted plots that benefitted no one. Perhaps the crash that knocked them all into stasis had caused damage that Megatron refused to acknowledge or have repaired. Whatever the reason behind it, this latest plan didn't fail to live up to anyone's expectations… which was to say, it ended with a Decepticon retreat, albeit with… surprising side-effects.<p>

That much, the two of them could agree on.

"That _incompetent_-" **clang!** "-useless pile of scrapmetal-" **crunch!** "-When I return to the Decepticons he will _tremble_ before-!"

"Please stop desecrating the dead," Optimus interrupted tonelessly, carefully picking his way around the cold frames littering the asteroid's surface. It was a marked contrast to Starscream's methodology, which involved taking out his frustration at their situation on the dead mechs around them.

Unfortunately, speaking only turned Starscream's focus to him.

"This is _your_ fault!" The seeker accused, stomping closer to Prime, heedless of the brittle cracking shells under his pedes.

"Strange," Optimus murmured. "A moment ago you were sure it was Megatron's."

"Him too!" Starscream spat, plating flaring briefly with anger – only to snap back into place as the cold hit delicate systems.

It was obvious what had wiped out this ill-fated little colony of robots, leaving their empty frames upon the asteroid to be ravaged by Starscream's fury. The cold of space was nothing new, and nothing particularly dangerous to a standard Cybertronian. It was actually a bit refreshing for some, able to vent their excess heat into the ever-hungry cold of the vacuum, leaving their systems nicely chilled and running at premium efficiency.

However, the asteroid they were currently occupying had an atmosphere, albeit a thin one, and it trapped the cold in, amplified it to levels beyond comfort for even a thickly armored Cybertronian. Worse than that, it trapped in latent moisture. It was a tiny, fragile micro-climate, but it had freezing temperatures and just enough moisture to sneak into joints, lock them up, drip slowly into circuitboards…

Optimus eyed the closest frame, taking note of the way an optic had exploded outward, likely from the force of the ice expanding outward from inside the socket.

"We should stop moving," Optimus suggested, taking survey of their surroundings once again. "Continued movement will only further expose our internals to the inclement environment here."

"Don't state the _obvious_," Starscream hissed, sneering. "Unlike some, _I've_ been in space enough times to know what I'm doing!"

"Then why haven't you flown away yet?" Optimus asked archly. Starscream was a flight model. There was nothing stopping him from simply flying away.

By the look on Starscream's face, that option hadn't yet occurred to the seeker. Optimus watched calmly as Starscream cackled with the realization, tried to say something he undoubtedly thought witty and biting – and failed to activate his thrusters.

The surprised, slightly-panicked look on Starscream's face was funny, and Optimus discreetly recorded it for sharing once he got back to base.

"My-! My thrusters are frozen up!" Starscream squawked, and proceeded to do a little dance, trying to balance on one leg while bringing the other up for inspection. This was going to be played and replayed for _eons_, Optimus thought.

"Perhaps you should have shown a bit more restraint, Starscream," was what he said instead. All that kicking and stomping on the frozen-over frames of the dead likely jammed some of the ice into Starscream's thrusters, rendering them useless.

"SHUT UP!" Starscream screeched before finally calming enough to glare accusingly at Optimus Prime again. "Why aren't _you_ thinking of something?" he asked, voice practically dripping with scorn.

"The Autobots will already be searching for me, and my communications array is fully functional. I have no doubt they will find me sooner rather than later."

Starscream sneered and said nothing to that. It wasn't the first time Optimus realized the Decepticon air commander had no friends, but it was the only time he felt a sliver of pity for him. Starscream deserved every awful thing the universe threw at him… but it was still almost sad, on some level.

"That's very touching," Starscream finally responded, voice overlaid thickly with sarcasm. "But that doesn't solve our little problem of how to not freeze to death."

"_Our_ problem?" Optimus repeated. "I don't know what you mean, Starscream." And, ignoring the shrieks of protest, he walked towards the only building left standing in the area. Surprised that Starscream hadn't shot at him (an event for which he had been completely prepared), Optimus entered the building – more of a shack than anything – and immediately felt more at ease.

It wasn't airtight, as evidenced by the ice crystals lingering in corners, but it was small enough to trap heat reasonably well. The reason for its resident's death was obvious, once Optimus pushed the dead frame outside – empty ration cubes and a small stockpile of weapons left behind.

One mech had taken the only shelter available, and kept it to himself by force, leaving his comrades outside to die a quicker death. Once they were gone, he had run out of energon and simply starved to death.

Nonetheless, Optimus chose the driest available space, huddled up underneath a desk, and waited. He could distantly hear Starscream's voice for awhile longer – then it stopped.

For all that he wished Starscream nothing but ill, it seemed somehow… immoral, to await rescue here while another slowly died. Cowardly. The least he could do was defeat Starscream one-on-one, not simply let the elements do his work for him.

Grimacing, Optimus shifted out from under the desk and prepared to stand, fully intent on finding the seeker and –

But Starscream had already found him, standing in the threshold of the building. They stared at each other for a moment, startled.

"… Close the door. You're letting the heat escape." Optimus settled down again, but did not return to his space beneath the furniture. To curl up again in such a confined space, now, with a Decepticon in the room, . Instead he sat slumped against the side of it, watching Starscream with a bored, neutral expression.

Starscream, by contrast, looked about ready to bolt at any moment. The door was closed behind him, but there were already ice crystals forming on his wings, the least-heated portion of his frame, and the seeker kept shifting his weight from pede to pede uneasily. Optimus wondered if the sensors in those were dead yet.

Finally, Starscream seemed to steel himself, puff up, and march straight towards Optimus. The Prime tensed, prepared for an attack – but Starscream merely glared down at him and then collapsed with a huff into the space next to him.

"You're cold," Optimus accused. Indeed, he could feel the cold radiating from Starscream's wing plating.

"If it bothers you so much, fix it," was the reply. Both of them stared at the wall ahead of them, etched with the half-crazed ramblings of the shack's previous tenant.

Silence reigned for a while longer, only the humming of systems working providing background noise, and the dripping of water as Starscream's wings slowly defrosted.

Without a word, Optimus removed a thermal retention sheet – a large, thin sheet of metal, not unlike tinfoil, provided as part of an emergency kit given to them by the U.S. government – from his subspace pocket. He carefully unfolded it, aware of Starscream's sudden interest, and when it was fully opened, draped it over both of them.

Starscream's optics glowed a strange hue of red under the canopy of coppery material. The light reflected on every available surface and competed with Optimus Prime's blue optic-light for space.

"Be careful not to tear it," Optimus cautioned. "It's very fragile. Humans use it as insulation for their spacecraft."

"Shut up. I don't care."

Already, the material was crinkled, adding to the mirror-like quality of light in their impromptu tent. Each facet was the coppery-red or coppery-blue that was their only illumination – save one panel, one little facet folded but not creased on itself, that caught each color and crossed them, reflecting both.


End file.
